The Heirloom Brides Collection

by Tracey V. Bateman

  The woman searched her face with a slight frown. Then her eyes widened and she lifted her chin. “You’re looking for a position, I take it?”

  Heat suffused Betsy’s face. “If you don’t have one available, I understand. I’m not asking for a handout.”

  Miss Annie waved her words aside. “And I don’t give them. As it happens, I’m in need for someone to help serve food and drinks to the customers and clean. Is that what you had in mind?”

  Besty had never eaten in a restaurant, so she had no idea what she had in mind except for honest work and enough wages to secure a place to sleep and to cover Doc’s fee. And she’d need to eat from time to time. “Yes, ma’am. That’s what I had in mind.”

  “Good, then. I understand you have some troubles. But don’t think this is a charitable position. I’ll expect you to do your fair share of the work, and trust me, it’s not going to be easy. I’ve let go almost as many girls as I’ve hired over the past ten years.” She eyed Betsy. “But I think you’re made of stronger stuff than those others.”

  Relieved to hear her say those things, Betsy didn’t withhold her smile. “Thank you, Miss Annie. Can I just ask… that is…”

  “How much am I paying you?”

  “I’m sorry to ask.”

  She snorted. “Don’t be sorry. You deserve to know what you’re working for. The pay is seven dollars a week. One meal per day included. I’ll expect you here at four thirty each morning, Monday through Saturday. You’ll leave when everything is spick-and-span. That’s usually around seven each evening. Sundays are the Lord’s day, and I observe that without fail. I’ll expect to see you at service each week. I can’t have an employee who doesn’t go to church.”

  The wages were more generous than Betsy had dared hope. The work and hours were going to take some getting used to, but she knew she could do it. The only thing that gave her pause was attending church services every week on her only day off. “Miss Annie, the thing about Sunday…”

  The older woman’s eyebrows went up. “Yes?”

  “It’s just that I need to go see Pops on Sundays. I’m just not sure how long he’ll be in the doc’s care. And after that I’ll be taking care of him.”

  Clearly unmoved by Betsy’s very reasonable explanation, Miss Annie scowled. “I’m sure your pops can wait until you’ve kept the Sabbath holy. I’m sorry, Betsy Lowell. But those are my rules. I have very few. Be good to the customers. Deliver hot food and make sure drinks are full. Oh, and never, ever talk back to a customer.”

  “Never?” Not even if one was rude to her?

  “Ironclad rule and grounds for immediate dismissal. Even so much as a sour face would be grounds for dismissal.”

  So she had to hold her tongue and her face? This position might be more difficult than she originally expected.

  “We all set, then?” Miss Annie asked. “Or should I look for someone else?”

  “No, ma’am. No need to look any further. When would you like for me to start?”

  “In the morning. Four thirty sharp. Do you have a place to stay?”

  “Not yet. I was thinking of asking Mr. Mahoney if I could bed down in my wagon at the livery.”

  “Nonsense. I have an extra room just over the kitchen. It’ll be comfortable in winter but does get rather warm in the summer with the heat from the kitchen. It’s very small, and the cot isn’t too comfortable, but you may have it for two dollars a week, and I’ll throw in one more meal a day. Which I think is very generous.”

  Calculating what she knew to be the rates at the boardinghouse, Betsy figured she’d save a dollar a week if she took the room over the kitchen.

  “Thank you, ma’am. May I move in now?”

  “Yes. I’m not without generosity. Tonight you’ll be my guest. Your rates for the room will begin tomorrow when you begin working.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “Just keep that attitude, and we’ll get on just fine. You can get into the room from the stairs behind the building. Go gather your belongings and move into the room at your convenience. I expect you to be in by eight each evening, including this one, and although it should be obvious, you mustn’t have gentleman callers at any time, day or night.”

  “Of course!”

  “I know you’re a good girl. But it had to be spoken aloud so there’s no misunderstanding.”

  Betsy nodded. “Thank you for everything. I’m going to go check on Pops, and I’ll be back later.”

  Betsy walked into Doc’s with her head high, pleased that she had secured a position and a home in less than twenty minutes. Pops would be relieved to hear she was taking care of herself. She met Mrs. Avery in the foyer. “How’s he doing?”

  “No change, I’m afraid.”

  Betsy’s heart sank. She’d held out a large amount of hope that just the act of her leaving and coming back hours later might somehow make him come around. “None?”

  “Not yet. But his breathing is steady. Doc says it’s a good sign that he’s still hanging in there. Sometimes staying unconscious is the body’s way of healing itself. We’ve certainly seen people wake up after days like this and be as right as rain.”

  Her words brought a measure of relief, though she couldn’t help but wish Pops would snap out of it. Of course, his bones needed to heal, so it might be a mercy he was staying asleep. Awake, he’d likely be insisting on getting up. Or doing something equally foolish to slow his recovery.

  “Are you hungry?” Mrs. Avery asked. “I have some ham slices still warm from lunch and some potatoes fried with salt pork.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you. Just let me go and sit with Pops for a few minutes.”

  A bright smile lit Mrs. Avery’s face. “Good to see you getting your appetite back.” She slid her arm around Betsy’s shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. “You go on in and sit with your grandpa, and I’ll bring your lunch to you.”

  Betsy tapped lightly on the door, but of course Pops didn’t answer. Feeling foolish, she turned the knob and stepped inside. “Hey, Pops,” she said. “I sure wish you’d wake up. And don’t worry, I’m not too mad about the mortgage and losing the farm.” She flopped onto the chair next to the bed. “Except if you’d told me,” she said, anger beginning to build, “I could’ve helped do something about it. You know? You didn’t have to lie to me all this time. I mean, mercy! You know who bought the farm out from under us? Leo Blakely. And today, he tried to take liberties. Oh! And your watch is gone. I mean, really, Pops. The one time you forget the watch and they sell it. And the worst part is I don’t know who has it. Any decent person will know that was a mistake, and maybe I can buy it back.”

  A knock at the door interrupted her, and Betsy sat back, folding her arms. “Come in, Mrs. Avery,” she called.

  The door opened, and the older woman appeared, juggling a tray in one hand, a pitcher of water in the other. Betsy hopped up and hurried to help before the whole thing ended up on the floor.

  “Thank you, dear.” Mrs. Avery smiled. “I brought Old Joe’s soup, too. I’ll try to get some nourishment down him while you get some in your own body.”

  Betsy set the tray on the table next to the bed and grabbed her plate. She attacked the ham and potatoes as though she hadn’t eaten in a month.

  Mrs. Avery nodded in approval. “It’s good to see you’ve gotten your appetite back. You’ve got to keep up your strength.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she replied around her last bite. “Especially starting tomorrow.” Just the description of what her days were going to be like from now on was exhausting.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m going to start working at Miss Annie’s restaurant tomorrow.”

  A frown creased Mrs. Avery’s brow; then she nodded. “I suppose it’s the sensible thing to do.”

  “Miss Annie is letting me rent a room over the restaurant.”

  “Oh, honey. You didn’t have to leave here. We have plenty of room. And you can keep your money.”

  �
��I appreciate it, but we don’t take charity. I don’t know how much Pops’ doctoring is going to cost, but I can start paying three dollars a week for now. And I’m thinking of selling the horses and wagon before the bank decides it owns those, too—except for Job.”

  “Don’t you worry yourself about paying the doctor.” Mrs. Avery spooned some thin soup into Pops’ mouth and wiped away a dribble from his chin. “We’re just praying for your grandfather’s recovery.”

  Had the woman not heard her say she wasn’t one for charity? Or was it something else? “Do you think Pops isn’t going to make it? Is that why you don’t want me to pay?”

  Setting the half-empty bowl on the table, Mrs. Avery turned to her. “I couldn’t begin to guess what God has in mind, but my husband was put on this earth to doctor folks. When patients are unable to pay, God always does.”

  Betsy lifted her chin. “This patient can pay. It might take awhile for me to earn the whole fee, but God won’t be paying our bill.”

  A moan from the bed stopped them both. Betsy set down the plate and reached for her grandpa’s hand. “Pops? You awake?”

  A mumble came from his lips. Betsy’s heart raced. Oh, please, God. Let him be waking up.

  Mrs. Avery stood. “I’ll go for the doctor. He’s in his office patching up little Kate Frazier’s bloody knee.”

  “Pops?” Betsy leaned over close to his ear. “Can you hear me?”

  “I ain’t deaf,” came a weak but rough reply.

  Tears sprang to Betsy’s eyes. “Oh, Pops. I’m so glad you’re awake. I was so worried.”

  Pops tried to open his eyes, but each time they opened a crack, he shut them again immediately. “How long?”

  “Since you’ve been unconscious?”

  He gave a barely perceptible nod.

  “Two days.”

  “That long? What happened?”

  “Job slipped on the ice and fell on top of you.”

  Dr. and Mrs. Avery walked in before she could tell him more. The doctor’s face lit with a smile. “Well, look who woke up.”

  His eyes finally opened. “What’s wrong with my leg and arm, Doc?”

  “Are you in pain?”

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever hurt so bad in my whole life. When can I get back on my feet?”

  A laugh rumbled the doctor’s chest. “First things first.” He listened to his patient’s heart. Looked at his eyes. “Does your head hurt?”

  Pops shook his head. “Not so’s you’d notice.”

  Doc nodded. “That’s good.”

  “But how long till I get out of this bed?”

  “Your leg was badly broken in more than one place,” the doctor explained. “And your arm isn’t much better. If you were a young man, I would guess two to three months. But our bones are weaker the older we get.”

  Pops scowled. “Just say it outright, Doc.”

  Doc Avery drew in a breath and slowly released it. “Four to six months, but I can’t be certain if that leg will ever hold you up again.”

  Betsy’s heart began to race. “You mean he might not walk again?”

  “It’s a possibility.” He turned back to Pops. “If you do get strong enough to walk, it’ll mean using a crutch for the rest of your life. But I have to warn you: I don’t like how weak your heart sounds. And if you don’t breathe deeply enough, you’re at risk for pneumonia. So make sure you try to take deep breaths several times a day—even when it hurts.”

  Betsy held her breath, waiting for Pops to throw a fit. Instead, he lay very still for so long she thought he might have gone to sleep or become unconscious again. When he finally spoke, he sounded weak and small. “I reckon I best learn to read, or I’ll be getting mighty bored.”

  “George enjoys an occasional game of checkers,” Mrs. Avery said. “I’ll bring the board in here.”

  Pops nodded. “Thank you kindly.”

  The doctor stood. He gazed at Betsy. “I’ll let the two of you visit for a few minutes. Then your grandpa needs his rest.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dr. and Mrs. Avery left the room, closing the door behind them. Betsy turned to Pops. But his eyes were closed. She sat back and kept quiet, watching him.

  Finally, he opened his eyes again. “I heard what you said.”

  “Then you’re hearing things. I haven’t made a peep.”

  “I mean before.”

  Betsy realized he meant before Mrs. Avery came in with lunch. “Oh. Well, there’s no point in talking about it now. There’s nothing to be done about it.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

  Betsy’s eyebrows went up at his uncommon humility. “Save your strength, Pops.”

  He shook his head. “I heard you say Leo tried to take liberties.”

  With a sigh, she revealed the events at the cabin.

  His free hand squeezed into a fist next to him on the bed. “I’ll kill him.”

  “You’re the one who said just two days ago I ought to have married him.”

  “I thought he’d keep you safe. But I wouldn’t have let you sell yourself in marriage just to save the farm.”

  Love for her pops welled up in Betsy’s chest. Pops might be the crankiest, strictest man alive, but he lost the land rather than see her marry a man she didn’t choose. “He won’t be bothering me again. And you don’t have to worry. I’m working now, so everything’s going to be okay.”

  His brow furrowed. “What do you mean you’re working? Who’s going to hire a little girl like you, and what kind of work?”

  She told him about Miss Annie.

  He shook his head. “You ain’t working for that woman. She’ll eat you alive. And I especially don’t want you living by yourself in a little room over the restaurant. You won’t be safe.”

  Did he really think Miss Annie could intimidate her after Joe Lowell had raised her? The very idea almost made her laugh, but she didn’t want him to accuse her of sass when he was so sick, so she focused on the last part of his concern. “I have your pistol. And you know I can shoot straight.”

  As weak as he was, Pops still wasn’t willing to let it go. “You heard me, gal. Now I mean what I say. You get the notion of Miss Annie this and Miss Annie that out of your mind.”

  “I heard you, Pops.” She looked straight at him, knowing she couldn’t back down. “But I have to have work to pay the doc and to get us a place once you’re well again.”

  “No woman’s going to take care of me.”

  Frustration nearly made her forget about his condition, but she forced herself to calm down. “I’d like to see you stop me. I won’t be here much. Probably just on Sundays after church.”

  Pops scowled. “Church? Why you going to go there?”

  “It’s one of Miss Annie’s rules.”

  “See? You can’t work for that woman. She’s going to ruin you.”

  “Well, I’m going to. It’s the best position I can get right now. I’m also selling the wagon and two horses.”

  “Not Job!”

  “No, sir. I wouldn’t sell your favorite horse. But you don’t have any objection about the wagon and other horses?”

  Pops shook his head. “I reckon we won’t need a wagon without a farm. And no need for the farm horses, neither. I reckon we can use the money to get us a little place in town, and you won’t have to work like a man.”

  Betsy had started shaking her head even before he finished. “I intend to settle our bill at the general store and anywhere else we owe.” She was tired of not being able to hold up her head in Tucker’s Creek.

  With a sigh, Pops closed his eyes and nodded. “Do what you want. You will anyway.”

  Standing, she bent down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll go now so you can rest. Remember I likely won’t be back until Sunday.”

  With one last glance back at Pops, she slipped out of the room. Poor Pops. He seemed so small and frail. But he’d raised her to be strong, and she had enough strength for them both.


  Chapter Six

  Stuart offered Ma his arm as they stepped off the boardwalk and started to cross the street to Miss Annie’s restaurant. “Honestly,” Ma said, slipping her hand inside the crook of his arm. “I don’t see why you insist on us paying good money for bad food.”

  It had been a week since the day he’d walked in the cabin to find Mr. Blakely threatening Betsy. He had seen her only once since then—three days ago when she’d come into the store to settle the bill. He and Ma had both tried to talk her out of it, but she was adamant. In the end, they agreed. He’d discovered later that day that she was working for Miss Annie. Since then, he’d been waiting for a night Ma was so exhausted that a meal at the restaurant might seem like a good idea. Today had been busier than any since the ice storm. Not only had they had a steady stream of customers, but they’d also begun their fall inventory.

  He opened the door and hung back to let Ma precede him. As he joined her, she turned to him with a wry grin. “Now I see why you insisted on eating here.”

  Stuart’s neck warmed as he followed her gaze to Betsy, who set plates down at a table with three men, her cheeks flushed.

  As she turned away from the table, her gaze caught his. She smiled all the way to her eyes, and Stuart felt like a king. She walked to them. “Good evening, Mrs. Fields. Stuart. Would you like a table?”

  “We certainly would,” Ma said. “What on earth are you doing working for that woman?”

  Betsy smiled. “It’s not so bad.” She led them to a table.

  Ma reached out and took Betsy’s hand. “That attitude just shows what an angel you are.”

  Angel? Betsy might look like one, but she was far from angelic. Although, Stuart had to admit, her sharp tongue and abrupt ways didn’t seem nearly as common or annoying as they used to.

  He tried not to watch her as she moved about the dining room. She brought them tea and moved quickly to the kitchen, coming out a minute later with two plates that she took to a young couple in the corner. “Betsy!” Miss Annie called from the kitchen, and Betsy quickly answered the call.

  “I vow that woman is working our Betsy to death. Are we going to let that go on?”